Unnaturally Perfect
by Inylan Ledding
Summary: [ONE SHOT] All summer Harry has been recieving love letters from a secret admirer, and he can't figure out who it is. HD PG13 for an in detail make out scene. One shot. Dedicated to Luba, Matt, and Caramel.


This lovely little one shot is dedicated to Luba, Matt, and Caramel, some of my most devoted fans and readers. They came up with this ingenious little idea, and I, of course, couldn't resist writing it. It took awhile to get up, as did the rest of my stuff (for full elaboration see the author's note at the bottom), but, it was fun to write!

Disclaimer: If HP was mine, well, lets not enter that naughty little thought . . .

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Harry waited impatiently by the fireplace, his arms crossed, his toe tapping a muffled rhythm on the thick carpet. It was August 31st, and Harry was to spend the night at Ron's so they could board the train together the next day. Ron had owled and arranged a time to pick Harry up by Floo, and, as usual, he was late.

Uncle Vernon sat in a plush armchair near the back of the room, constantly shifting. The ceaseless sound of creaking springs and Uncle Vernon muttering threats under his breath was quite annoying, and Harry was using the last bit of patience he had to not turn around and curse the man.

"So, your little friend has decided to leave you, eh?" Vernon taunted, nervously. "I see he's still not here. Just like a wizard, to completely forget-"

"Shut up, Uncle Vernon," Harry said with a sigh. "Can't you just leave the room?"

"And leave you and your ruddy little friends to trash my living room while I'm not watching! Bloody hell no!" Vernon rose and came to stand by Harry. "If I find that these hooligans have damaged any part of my chimney because of this-"

"You'll lock me up and send me to St. Brutus', yes, yes, I KNOW!" Harry turned, seething, to his uncle. "Will you stop with the petty threats! They're useless and empty, and both of us know that you can't do a thing about them!"

"Why, you little wretch! Vernon roared, his face turning purple. "If you don't get out of my house right now- bloody hell, what is that?"

A green fire had ignited in the fireplace, and out stepped a slightly sooty Ron Weasley, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey mate!" he said, turning to Harry. "Glad to finally see you, not that we haven't been writing to each other. Anyways, grab your stuff and we'll get going. Can't wait to hear all about your summer." Addressing Vernon, his smile faltering a bit, Ron said in a cold, polite, tone, "We'll make sure to take care of your nephew, Mr. Dursley. I hope you have a good year."

"Uh, Ron, let's go," Harry suggested, hurrying Ron in to fireplace with his trunk. "You go first, I'll go second."

In dual flashes of green, the two disappeared from the Dursley living room, where a perturbed Vernon stomped out of the room.

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"Spill." Ron unceremoniously dumped Harry's things in the corner of his room as sat down on the bed, waiting for an answer. "What's all this about secret letters all summer?"

Harry, who had been anxious to tell Ron since meeting in the Dursley's living room, now felt embarrassed. What if the whole thing was a joke? What if Harry was making a big deal out of nothing? What if- ah hell, Harry couldn't keep anything from Ron.

Stretching out on his back on the bed with his hands under his head, Harry sighed. "Well, ever since about mid-summer, I've been getting these anonymous letters, and, it's rather embarrassing."

"It can't be that bad," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Just tell me."

"Well," Harry said, sighing, "they're _love _letters."

The redhead burst out laughing, leading to a bright-orange Chudley Cannon's pillow aimed at his head. "So someone else has decided to profess their love for your eyes as green as 'fresh-pickled toad'?"

"No," Harry said pensively, "the letters aren't that superficial. The person isn't just contemplating my looks, or hero-worshipping me like a lot of other people do. This person is really expressing what they feel, and the way it's written really touches you. It's like the writer is reaching out to you, grabbing for something with almost no chance of getting it, but still they have to try. It's the kind of letter that you really hope isn't a joke."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like someone is in love with their secret admirer."

Harry sat up. "I am _not_ in love with my secret admirer, as you call it," he retorted, a blush staining his cheeks. "I just wish I knew who she was."

"So you're assuming it's a girl?" Ron held up his hands at Harry's wide eyed stare. "Just a thought, mate. Malfoy seems to like taunting you, and you know what people say about people teasing the people they like . . ."

Ron had to duck another pillow.

"I don't think it's a guy," Harry said slowly. "It didn't seem like a guy wrote it. It was too eloquent."

"Do you have one of them with you? We might be able to figure a few things out from the letters themselves."

Harry opened his trunk and, after rummaging around for a bit, pulled a thick stack of letters tied with string from beneath his broom servicing kit.

"Holy mackeral!" Ron said, his jaw slack. "Whoever this is must really like you!"

Harry blushed again, tossing Ron one of the letters. "Yea, Uncle Vernon was threatening to stand outside and shoot the owls as they flew by after a while."

Ron read the letter in silence, then another, and another. By the time he finished the fifth, his face was twisted in a shocked expression.

"This person really has it bad for you," he announced. Harry sat down next to him, and Ron started picking apart the letters.

"I'm pretty sure these are sincere, although it could be Malfoy trying to be a complete prat again. The handwriting is feminine with a touch of masculinity- very neat, as if a lot of care was taken with it, but slightly heavier handed than most girls write. The parchment is really nice- not that cheap stuff we use for school, but quality paper. Whoever this is definitely has some money. What kind of owl did they use?"

Harry shrugged. "I never paid really close attention, but I do know there was more than one kind. In fact, I don't ever remember seeing the same owl twice, but I wasn't really concentrating on what breed of owl was pecking at my window."

"Yea, because you were too busy wondering what the next letter would entail." Ron grinned. "I want to meet this person. Sounds like they really have it bad."

"Yea," Harry said quietly. "I just wish I knew who it was. All this wondering is killing my nerves."

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The orange cannons clock on Ron's bedside table read two in the morning, but Harry still wasn't tired. His mind was filled with thoughts of returning to school, what the oncoming year would bring, how many Death Eaters he was going to have to avoid during Potions class, and notions concerning different ways he could find out who this admirer was, and if they even went to Hogwarts.

"I could ask Hermione to ask around, see if any of the girls know anything about it," he thought to himself. "Or maybe Ginny might know something about it. I'll have to ask her in the morning. Did the admirer ever write anything about other people? I don't think so, but . . ."

Harry reached for the stack, which was still lying on the nightstand, and removed the most recent letter from the top. He muttered a quick "Lumos" and hid under the sheets of his temporary bed so the light wouldn't wake the snoring Ron.

Harry studied the letter again, taking in all the angles and curves of the handwriting, observing all the oil and grease spots where fingers had left stains and food had spilled onto the parchment. Smiling to himself, he began to read.

__

29 August

Dear Harry,

I won't be able to write to you while you're at Ron's house. I have a few things to get done before fall term picks up again-

"But fall term for what school?" Harry asked himself.

-and I don't want to intrude on your time with your friends.

I feel that this summer has brought us closer. From your letters, I can tell that there's more to you than everyone else can see, an entirely different being that carries a cross to big for your back. A being that is under so much emotional pressure and strain that it's a miracle that you don't crack. You're not just the idol that everyone sees you to be. To me, you're a person. You're you.

Because of this summer, you finally realized that I exist. You may not know who I am now, but time will tell. Time will always tell.

Have a good start of term, and look for my next letter soon!

-Your Anguis-

"How the hell am I ever going to find her?" Harry thought. "And what the hell does Anguis mean?"

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"Harry!"

Harry had just enough time to compute the fact that a bushy haired girl was moving toward him at lightening speed down Platform 9 and ¾ before she slammed into him full force.

"Hey, 'Mione. How was your summer?" Harry said a bit breathlessly, the air having just been knocked out of him.

"Wonderful! Mum and Dad took me to Italy this summer! It was beautiful! It was so nice to get out and see all the Muggle sights again . . ." Hermione kept up an endless stream of chatter about her tour of Italia as the trio and Ginny boarded the train, bidding hasty good-byes to the Weasleys as the train pulled out of the station. After procuring their own compartment, Harry, with input from Ron, related the Love Letter Saga to Hermione and Ginny, evoking mixed reactions.

"Oh that is so sweet!" squealed Ginny. "The minute you find out who she is, you have to tell me!"

Harry blushed, unsure of what to say, but Hermione cut-in.

"This could be dangerous," she stated gravely. "We don't know who is sending the letters, and it could be a trap. It could be another one of Voldemort's schemes."

"Oh, and how it Voldemort going to kill Harry this time, write so much lovey dovey junk that Harry goes insane?" Ron asked sarcastically. "Or, he could put so much perfume on the parchment to scent it that Harry gags to death when he opens the letter."

"I'm serious, Ronald. You never know what the Dark Lord could come up with next." Hermione turned to Harry. "Just be careful, okay? I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Oh, come on, 'Mione, lighten up a bit. It's just another rabid fan-girl letting her obsession go a little to far," Ginny said. "Now, the three of us need to get going- Prefects have to start patrolling the halls." The group said their good-byes, with the three prefects promising to stop by when they had the chance, and left Harry alone in the compartment.

He wasn't alone for long, though. Soon, a new girl that Harry hadn't ever seen before walked by the glass door to the compartment, glancing at Harry as she did so. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn't ever seen a girl as beautiful as she, with long silky chestnut hair falling in supple waves down her back. Her bright blue eyes met with Harry's, locking. With one slender hand she reached for the door handle and silently rolled the door open, never breaking their gaze. Stepping inside, she shut the door, and sat down across from Harry.

"Hello," she said in a musical, confidant voice. "I'm Anguis. Nice to finally meet you, Harry."

Harry stared open-mouthed. He had expected his secret admirer to be pretty, maybe even stunning, but not as gorgeous as she had turned out to be. Any thoughts that he had prepared in all his daydreams about finally meeting her were erased, and his mind couldn't even form a simple greeting.

"Surprised?" Anguis smiled, and with a bell-like laugh tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I know that my actions have been a little bit stranger than those of your other admirers. Have I caused you any trouble?"

"No," Harry said, finding his voice. "I've just been very anxious to meet you for the past few months."

The next hour found the two becoming fast friends. Harry was ecstatic to find that Anguis was a devout Quidditch fan, and planned to play for the school in the upcoming year. She was also musically talented, and had a very clear singing voice. They mutually avoided the subjects of family and money, but had a lengthy conversation on the different tactics that Seekers could use to catch the Snitch.

"Harry," Anguis said, sitting down next to Harry and taking his hand, "I feel like I know you, like we're meant to be together. The question is, what do you feel?"

Harry's breath quickened, and a shiver ran through his body from her gentle touch. He couldn't quite decipher what he felt, but he knew he was attracted to her, he knew that he never wanted her to leave him.

"I don't know if what I feel is love, because I've never experienced love, not that I can remember," Harry said cautiously. "But I do know that what I feel for you is stronger that anything I have felt for anyone in my entire life. There is something between us, and I want to find out what it is."

Anguis' face lit up in a smile. "Wonderful. But, before you make any more decisions, I have something to tell, well, show you actually."

Harry froze. Maybe Hermione was right, maybe this was dangerous. What if this girl was a vampire, or a werewolf, or part rabid-monkey?

"Okay, the imagination is going a little too far," he told himself. "Get a grip."

"I'm not really Anguis," she said. "And, oh, this is going to be hard for you, I'm not a girl."

"WHAT?" Harry exclaimed. "You have to be a girl! You certainly look like one!"

"But I'm not." Harry gasped at the sound of the deeper voice being emitted from his admirer's mouth. He watched in horror as the feminine form gave way to a taller, thinner, masculine body, the soft curves morphing into sharp angles. The face became longer, more pointed, the hair shorter, less dense, and a platinum, silvery blonde.

"Oh my god," Harry said quietly when a fully changed Draco Malfoy stood in front of him. "No, this is not happening. Hermione was right, this was all a trick, I was a fool to think this could be real-"

"Will you just shut up," Draco commanded, impatience lining the edges of his voice. "I was not sent by Voldemort to corner and kill you. I am not doing this to see you embarrassed. I'm doing this because I _love_ you."

"Do you realize the absurdity of what you just said?!" Harry yelled. "You are Draco Malfoy, I am Harry Potter!"

"Wow, he figured out his own identity," Draco muttered to no one in particular.

"We're both guys! Male! Same gender! This cannot work!" Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you playing at Malfoy?"

"I told you, nothing! I _like_ you, Harry." Draco watched as the effect of his use of Harry's first name sunk in. "And like you said before, there's something more between us than we have felt with anyone else. Why can't you just accept it?"

Harry was fast becoming flustered. "I, well, it's . . ." But he couldn't find any more words of protest. Draco was right; there was a connection between them that couldn't be ignored. But that didn't mean Harry wasn't going to try to figure this out.

"This, I just can't Draco, it's too unnatural, I- mmph." Harry was cut short as Draco grabbed him by the front of his robes and pressed their lips together in a searing kiss full of pent up frustration and long-awaited passion. When Draco released him, Harry was breathing heavily, his glasses knocked askew.

"Tell me that something that perfect is unnatural," Draco challenged, his eyes bright. "Just tell me that you don't feel anything, and I will walk out of here, never looking back."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind and pulled Draco into another bruising kiss, this time not pulling away. He snaked one arm around the frail waist and felt an alabaster arm reach up to link around his neck.

Both were so intent on their actions that neither noticed the door open.

"Harry, 'Mione and I haven't been able to find Draco anywhere, it's really very pecu- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" Ron yelled at the top of his voice.

"Ron, is everything okay?" Hermione poked her head in. "Is everything alright? I heard you down at the other end of the compartment . . . Harry, what are you and Draco doing?" Hermione shooed off the crowd that was gathering outside and shut the door. "And what is Draco doing in here?"

Harry disentangled himself from Draco's embrace and turned to his friends. "Uh, guys, this is my secret admirer," he said, stumbling over his words. "It was Draco, not some girl, not some Death Eater, but Draco."

"Harry, I think you need to tell us the entire story," Hermione said. "The other prefects can manage without us. Tell me now."

So, for the second time that day, Harry found himself explaining another tricky situation, complete with twists and turns, down to the very last mushy word that Harry had uttered to the supposed Anguis. By the time they had completed the second part of the saga, the Express had pulled into Hogsmeade, and the four exited the compartment to various stares and whispers.

"Oh, this is going to be grand," Harry thought to himself. "More publicity."

Stepping off onto the platform, and waving hello to Hagrid, the group made it's way to the carriages that awaited them.

"Y'know what mate?" Ron said as he climbed in next to Harry, "ALWAYS knew he had a thing for you."

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And the fluffy little one shot ends! Reviews are appreciated.

Now, for the saga of the laptop.

Two months ago (yes, two months. Grr.) my laptop crashed. Not just "oh it has a virus and it needs a hard drive scan." No, it was a faulty motherboard, which basically means the entire computer is screwed. So my dad took it down to Best Buy so they could repair it, which they said would take one to two weeks. So two weeks go by- no news. We call, it's been sitting there and they just never called. We pick it up and try to reload the system with the back-up disks . . . . And it dies. Completely. Like someone had cast the mechanical equivalent of Avada Kedavra on it. So we bring it back again. And then they have to send it to the company, who forgets that its sitting there and then finally realizes that they have to just give me a new one, but then all the paperwork ensues . . . And yea.

Some of you may say "Why not just the other computer?"

My brother and sister monopolize it to the point where there is no time for me to use it. Plus, there are so many viruses and so much crap from them playing their online games that its slower than me trying to run. And that's slow.

So here we are, with a brand new, much better laptop that is working perfectly- for now. I'm working on the other chapters to the rest of my fics, and they will be out as soon as possible.

Thanks for the patience guys- life is just screwy sometimes.


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